Break the Ice
by Stratagem
Summary: Gaby wants to go ice skating, but the ice turns out to be weak. Cue the rescue from icy waters by Illya, and Napoleon basically telling them to snuggle for survival.


Disclaimer: I don't own The Man from U.N.C.L.E. I think it's a fantastic movie, and I bet the TV show was really cool! But yeah, I don't own either. ^_~

 **When Your Lips Turn Blue**

"Don't."

The instant he said it, he wanted to take that one word back.

It had just slipped out. Illya knew that right now Gaby would take it as a challenge, that she would do that opposite of whatever he said. She was in that teasing and playful mood, victorious and satisfied with a hint of invincibility as they wrapped up this mission.

Their mark was in custody, the diamonds were going back to the museum where they belonged, and the sun had been out that day for the first time in weeks. After a month of suffering in an endless winter, that sunshine had been welcomed by all of them, but Gaby especially seemed to revel in it.

However, the sunshine was the very reason he didn't want her to go out on the ice right now. She had been determined to go out into the city, to actually enjoy the sights, and they had walked around for hours before finding themselves back at the river, not far from their hotel.

Instead of turning toward the hotel and warmth and dinner, she had headed down to the riverbank and he immediately knew what she intended to do.

"Why not?" She was tapping the edge of the iced-over river with the tip of her boot. "I miss ice skating."

"That's unfortunate," he said, holding out a hand to her, "We have dinner reservations."

"Then let's skip them." Her smirk was dangerously mischievous as she took another step backwards, away from him and further onto the ice. "Everyone knows that newlyweds are so very unpredictable. We won't be missed." Their cover this time hadn't simply been as fiancés; instead, they had posed as a ridiculously rich married couple out on their honeymoon, which had gotten them invited to quite a few parties at their mark's house and given them ample time alone.

"You shouldn't." He moved as close to the edge as he dared, staring at her, his hand still outstretched. "The ice may be weak."

"It's only been warm for a day." Her next step put her out of arm's reach, and that made him grit his teeth. "Don't be so paranoid."

"I am not being paranoid, you're simply being contrary."

Gaby pushed her furred hood back, looking free with her dark hair loose around her face. "And what if I am? What are you going to do about it?" Her right foot glided backwards, followed by her left, and then her right again, so swift and agile and reckless.

Illya jerked forward, barely stopping himself before he stepped onto the ice. She was far out of reach by that point. "Gaby, stop."

She paused, her hands going to her hips, but she didn't go any further. For a moment, it seemed like was going to be a silent battle of wills, but she finally sighed. "You're a worrywart, Kuryakin."

"You can call me whatever names you would like if you would just get off the ice." He leaned out a little further, reaching for her.

"That is too tempting." She flashed a quick smile and slipped back toward him, sliding over the ice.

He heard a shudder of threatening crackles an instant before the ice popped like a gunshot, and Gaby cried out. Their eyes met an instant before she went down, dropping through the ice and into the freezing water.

"Illya!"

He felt like his heart was going to beat right out of his chest as he looked at Gaby clutching at the ice, her dark brown eyes wide with fear. "Do not move! Stay still!"

If he stepped on the ice, it might break and then Gaby lose her tenuous hold on the ice and get swept under the sheet and down the river. He had to get her without actually going out to get her, or he might accidentally put her in more danger.

The next few seconds were a blur that Illya would never be able to completely recall later. He just knew that one moment he was standing next to the river trying to come up with a plan and the next he was holding a three and a half meter tall young tree out over the ice. "Grab it, Gaby!"

The moment she had a grasp on the tree, Illya walked backward, pulling her out of the hole in the ice. He walked backwards, barely noticing when a couple other men ran up and joined him, grabbing onto the tree's spindly branches. Once Gaby was on the thicker ice, close to the bank, Ilya dropped the tree and ran to her, grabbing her and pulling her the rest of the way to the bank. Around them, people were asking what had happened and if she was okay, but their words weren't registering with him. All he could see was Gaby shivering in his arms.

She startled him by laughing. "Illya. Illya, you pulled a tree out of the ground."

"Shh." She was soaking wet and shivering violently. He needed to get her warm and dry as soon as possible. Automatically, he set her down, gently, carefully, before ripping off his coat and wrapping her up in it. She was staring up at her, her teeth chattering.

"You literally uprooted an entire tree. A tree. That was…How—"

Before she could say anything else, he popped his hat onto her head and rapidly wound his scarf around her neck. "We have to get you inside by a fire." He picked her up, and she looped her arms around his neck, her head falling against his shoulder. Around him, people were still trying to crowd, but a glare and a smattering of Russian sent them scattering. He was grateful for their help, but he had to attend to Gaby right now.

Their hotel was right across from the river, and he scared the receptionists when he barged in, nearly taking the door off its hinges. He thundered up the stairs as Gaby's freezing fingers touched his neck.

"Illya, it's okay—"

"It is not."

"But—"

"It is _not_."

Cowboy. Cowboy's room was closer. Illya stopped on the fourth floor and headed down to the American's room at the end of the hallway. He kicked the door, resisting the urge to just knock it down, but Solo was there in a moment.

Solo looked like he was about to make a joke but thought better of it immediately. "Good Lord, what happened? What did you _do_?"

Gaby gave a small wave. "It was my fault—"

"Not now." Illya stepped into Solo's room and headed straight for the bed, where he sat Gaby down. "We need blankets and towels."

Solo walked backwards toward the bathroom. "Of course, but someone will eventually tell me what's going on, yes?"

"Yes. Go." Illya couldn't seem to manage English words that were longer than single syllables right now. He helped Gaby out of his coat and her own, knowing that they needed to do whatever they could to get her warm again. She was so little, she didn't exactly have a wealth of body heat. More than once during this mission, he had sat with her hands held between his, trying to keep them warm, and she had slept in his bed a couple times after complaining her own bed was too cold. She had freezing toes and was wicked about pressing them against his legs.

"So," Solo said as he walked out of the bathroom and stopped briefly at the closet to grab more blankets, "Would anyone care to tell me how Gaby became a pretty German icicle?"

"I w-w-wanted to i-i-ice skate. Ice d-d-did not cooper-perate."

Illya bent down to slip her boots and socks off her feet, but he didn't rub them. It was her core that needed to be heated first. Trying to warm up her hands and feet first could hurt her.

"Ah." Solo frowned and tossed the towels and blankets onto the bed and sat down on Gaby's other side. He pressed his fingers to the pulse in her neck and then placed a hand on her cheek. "You're not made for icy swimming, Gaby."

"N-n-no, r-really?" The tiny German curled up on her side as Illya rubbed her back in big, soothing circles.

"Your dress," Solo said, tapping Gaby's arm.

"What?"

"You need to take it off. You can't keep it on, it's soaking wet." He held up his hands. "We won't look, of course."

"I d-d-don't c-care." She sat up with Illya's help, but he averted his eyes as she started fumbling with the zipper on her dress.

"Here." He reached over and swiftly, expertly, unzipped the dress. Before she could slip out of it though, he turned and held up a sheet for her like it was a changing curtain. It only seemed right.

"Let me see…" Solo got up and walked over to his closet before selecting a black turtleneck. He sauntered back over and dropped it over the side of Illya's makeshift curtain just as Gaby threw her dress over the way, nearly hitting him in the head.

Solo crossed his arms and looked from at Illya. "You know, body heat is the best remedy for hypothermia."

"Solo."

"It is," he said, "She's quite small, so hypothermia is a real possibility. And it would be easiest for _you_ to warm her, since you're practically a furnace of deep-seated rage."

Gaby pulled down the sheet, wrapping it around her. "I can h-hear you. And I'd l-like to be w-warm, for the re-re-record." Gaby's hand rested on Illya's leg, and he could feel her fingers trembling. It broke down his resolve, and he pulled her close, wrapping his arms tight around her, pressing his face to her wet hair. She was so cold… She nuzzled into him, settling against his chest, her shivering starting to calm down.

"I'll just head down to the bar, then, if you've got this handled, Peril." Solo smiled a little before he reached over and squeezed Gaby's arm. "I'll be right downstairs if you need me. And you're welcome to stay in my room tonight. You two have the bigger room anyways." He winked before heading for the door, his jacket tossed over his shoulder.

Illya knew Solo could not be too concerned. When Cowboy was truly worried, he hovered like an old fussy grandmother and paced and hovered some more. He must have thought that Gaby was going to be all right if he was willing to leave.

"Illya?"

"Yes?" he said, his lips near her ear as he laid down, pulling her with him. With his free hand, he yanked some of the covers up around them. All that adrenaline that had been coursing through his veins seemed to be leaving rather quickly now that the excitement was over. The glow from the fireplace was warm and cheerful, and the heat was warming both of them up.

"Thank you for the heroics," she said, and she kissed his cheek, "No one has ever torn a tree out of the ground for me before."

"I must remember to replant it tomorrow," he mumbled, brushing his cheek against her hair.

She laughed, soft and husky. "I'll help."

He was almost asleep when he felt her turn in his arm and then her soft lips against his. It wasn't their first kiss, that had been a show put on for their mission, but this one was a real kiss. He threaded his fingers into her hair and kissed her back before resting his forehead against hers.

"That's my real thank you."

"Thank you for your thank you." Wait. "I mean…"

This time, she kissed his forehead.

"Go to sleep, Illya."


End file.
